


Are we in the hands of borrowed time?

by Potatehoe



Series: One Shots (Camren) [1]
Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, One Shot, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potatehoe/pseuds/Potatehoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soulmate, would you want to know?</p><p> </p><p>BASED ON THIS PROMPT:</p><p>You look at it nearly every day.</p><p>It’s still up there, years away in fact, and that’s fine. But sometimes you watch it. You watch the numbers tick away and you wonder and you dream and you try not to expect too much because you know no matter what it’ll be perfect. Once a year when it becomes the exact future anniversary, you watch it and count down to zero. Only ten more years. Only six more years. Only four more years.</p><p>Then one day you wake up. Pain spreading throughout your body and realized that something is wrong. Your wrist where your timer is located hurt like fire, worse than the pain you're feeling all over your body. You felt a chill went down your spine as you glanced over at the timer, all the numbers say zero in bold red. Something horrible has happened.</p><p>They’re dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are we in the hands of borrowed time?

_#workskin .font-red {color: red;} #workskin .font-reallydarkgray {color: #626262;}_

* * *

“But what does it do?” she asked her mother disdainfully. “What is its purpose?”

Her mother just smiled down at her and rubbed over the spot on her own wrist. Lauren could see that it showed zeroes. Time had run out, but she didn’t know what it was timing. Clara crouched down next to her and took her wrist in her hand, glancing down at it for a moment.

“One day,” she said, “You’re going to meet someone. The most important person you’ve ever met. Then, the clock will say zero. It’s like a countdown timer.”

“It’s counting down to the day I meet someone?” Lauren questioned. Her tone was near disgusted. “That’s ridiculous. What’s the point of that? And don’t say I’m too young to understand. That doesn’t work.”

Clara shook her head and repeated, “The most important person you’ll ever meet, Lauren.”

“I don’t like people,” Lauren said adamantly. “They’re annoying.”

Clara stood back up and ruffled her hair fondly, ignoring her huffs of protest.

“You’ll understand, when it happens,” she assured, walking away. Lauren frowned at the floor and stomped off to the sitting room to read, angry that her mother wouldn’t give her a straightforward explanation. 

Later on, as she managed her way through boredom and endless hours of school, she started hearing more about it. Excited quips from girls, squealing and showing each other their wrists. She would sneak around and listen, struggling through their annoying giggles long enough to finally hear; the timer counting down to the day you’d meet the most important person you’d ever meet. Your soul mate.

The words made her cringe in disgust. The fact that she even had a working timer was horrid; it meant she’d end up meeting someone she would be deigned to remain with for the rest of her life. How could someone stand a single person for such a long amount of time? She knows that they’d get tired of her eventually.

The time on her wrist, by age ten, still read over six years.

**6y 10m 43w 27d 10h 22m 30s**

Six years, ten months, forty three weeks, twenty seven days, ten hours, twenty two minutes and thirty seconds to be exact.

* * *

Camila, like any eighteen years old girl, spent more time than she liked to admit thinking about what her soul mate would be like.

What color is their hair? Their eyes? What are their interests? Do they like sports, or do they prefer to read? What do they do? What’ll they think of me?

The final question, she knew, was ridiculous; they’d love her, just as she’d love them. That was how it worked. The question was always nagging at her mind, though.

_What if they don’t?_

She was something of a romantic, you could say. She liked the idea of lying around with someone, cuddling with them on cold days and teasing, flirting like no one else mattered. 

She hadn’t even met her soul mate and she was enamored of them.

The time on her wrist read ten years on her first day of medical school, and she wondered why she was one of the few who had to wait so long.

When she was nine years old, her timer marked that there is only six years until she meet her partner, but when she turned fifteen and her timer read thirty more days until she meet her soulmate, the clock just went back and added not one but thirteen more years.

 She continually told herself it would be worth it, eventually.

* * *

It was the first proper thing Simpson had actually, legitimately, asked Lauren to come to, and she was being asked about her timer to the point that she wants to chuck the phone she’s holding unto him.

“For god’s sake!” she shouted, practically ripping her white sleeve as she tugged it back down. “Yes, I do have one, yes, it is functioning!”

Her business partner, Normani was sneering at her from a distance because her sudden outburst cost another customer, Lauren had half a mind to chin her right then. If Ally wasn’t there though, she would. Ally was quick to address the problem, she went after the customer and talked her to buying one of their products.

“Jesus, calm down, Lauren!” Bradley exclaimed, holding his hands up defensively while laughing. “It’s just - you know, a surprise. For you.”

“Not like I control whether or not I have one,” she said, absentmindedly rubbing her wrist.

The rest of the people in the room glanced around awkwardly, hands unconsciously touching the marks on their own arms. Brad kept eyeing Lauren in a way he believed to be inconspicuous until Lauren finally snapped and remarked, “Is it proof enough?”

“Proof of what?” Bradley questioned, confused.

“Proof enough for you that I’m a human being, even if I’d rather not be.”

Bradley’s expression fell and he looked away, internally upset with himself. “How much time is left?”

“Was it really your business?” Lauren muttered.

The time had jumped from two years to four yesterday afternoon, and she berated herself for feeling anything by it.

* * *

Burning.

 

It was the only word present in Camila’s mind. Fucking accurate in so many senses. Burning desert sun, burning bullet embedded in her shoulder, burning ground against her back, burning throat as she let out strangled cries and raggedly inhaled dust.

Pain nearly covered it, but burning was more specific.

On top of the searing in her shoulder (searing worked pretty well, too), there was a hard throbbing in her right wrist, and she could see behind her eyes that the number of days until she meet her soul mate were spinning rapidly, counting down. 

Hell, maybe they’re dead, too, she thought. The burning sun became blotched out with black spots and Camila was lost to the world, writhing in the dirt unconsciously.

* * *

Lauren’s eyes snapped open and she cried out in surprise, gripping her arm and working her jaw through an unexpected throb of pain.

_That… Definitely didn’t feel right._

She glanced down at her arm and found nothing wrong until her eyes passed over her wrist. The numbers all read zero in dark red font and Lauren’s expression faltered.

~~** 00y 00m 00w 00d 00h 00m 00s** ~~

Just the day before they’d read three years, 3 months. Something had gone wrong.

* * *

Camila’s eyes flew back open and she wheezed, trying to work against the pain in her lungs as she scraped along for air.

Broken ribs, her mind supplied. You’ve just had a heart attack, too. Don’t forget the bullet wound, of course. Sorry, you were thinking about your soul mate? Good fucking luck.

If she’d had enough oxygen, Camila would’ve shouted for it to shut up. She could feel hands working on her, inexperienced and trembling, moving too fast, too shoddy.

“Stay with me, Doctor,” the soldier begged. “God help us.”

 

Then everything went blank.

* * *

Lauren watched as the numbers started re-appearing.

1 day, 2 days. 3. 4. 5. 6.

They jumped back down to zero and her stomach flipped. They started over.

… 10, 12, 15, 22.

0.

3, 7, 27.

The C.E.O. growled in frustration and rubbed her thumb hard over the mark.

“Make up your damn mind!” she shouted at it, watching as it climbed to 30 and dropped again. Every time it hit zero, she’d feel a stab of pain in her chest, a heavy weight on her heart.

The number rose once more and stopped at twenty one days.

If she felt a swell of warmth and relief, she dismissed it.

**00y 00m 03w 21d 24h 59m 58s**

**00y 00m 03w 21d 24h 59m 57s**

**00y 00m 03w 21d 24h 59m 56s**

She looked at her timer for a little while, watching the seconds go down, making sure that it will stay that way and not witness the numbers on her timer go down all at once to zero again.

* * *

“Camila Cabello!” 

Since returning home, Camila had stopped checking her wrist. There’d been too much distraction; teary visits from her family and friends; stressful too. Now, she’s just trying to find somewhere to stay while she was healing until she could find a job and use her doctorate degree in a safer environment.

“I heard you were deployed somewhere, getting shot at! What happened?” Dinah asked her.

“… I got shot.” Camila said humorously.

“Haha. Very Nice, but seriously though, please elaborate.”

“Well, I was treating this wounded soldier then a mine blew up and all hell breaks lose.”

“How’d you get shot? I heard that you can’t shoot a doctor on the field because you technically didn’t choose any side because of what’s that again? The hypocrite’s oath?”

“It’s the Hippocratic Oath, and how’d you know that? I guess because of the explosion I got hit by a stray bullet being open fired. It’s crazy though, the soldier I’ve treated before the explosion actually revived me, enough for other medics to get me and rush me to the medical tent.”

There was something nagging at the back of her head, but she couldn’t place it. She felt different - almost better.

As they made their way up by the elevator, Camila asked questions about her soon to be roommate.

“Come on - who’d want me for a roommate? Why does she want a roommate anyway? You said that she’s a C.E.O.”

“Technically, she doesn’t want to. But she had to.”

“Why?”

“I own this building Chancho what do you think I did?”

“Dinah!”

“C’mon! I just want you near somebody I trust you know? Plus you’re on the top floor so that’s a bonus. Unless, you want to be on the room eight floors below beside that creepy fuckboy.”

“No thanks. I’d rather die.”

“Same. And it’s not like I forced her to, I just, you know, persuaded her.”

“I know you, you probably threatened her.”

“I am telling you right now, I persuaded her to be your roommate by telling her she can park her chopper on the rooftop. Honest.”

“That’s okay, I guess.”

"By the way, she already knows why you need a room. So no need to explain to her why you got a walking stick and shit."

"It's not like its permanent and when i get a job i'll help with the bills and all."

They were interrupted by the elevator ding indicating that they are now at the top floor.

* * *

It wasn’t until she stepped in the door of the penthouse.

“Dinah, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine, those telecommunications company are so going to get it.”

Camila snapped her gaze up and her right hand clenched around the head of her cane. That voice sent a chill down her spine and made her chest feel like it was inflating. 

“Ah - here. Use mine,” she offered breathlessly.

Lauren met her gaze and something flickered over her expression.

Her eyes darted down to her wrist and she lifted her sleeve just a centimeter - enough to make her breath hitch.

“Dinah, can you please give us a moment?” she said, her eyes still trained on her wrist.

Dinah eyed them, back and forth, smirked, before complying and started to walk towards the door.

“Be back in ten minutes, girls, I ought to go check on something anyhow.” she said to Camila and Lauren before she walked out.

Lauren stood as soon as the door shut and strode over to Camila, looming over her so close that Camila had to take a step backwards.

“Does it read zero?” Lauren hissed. “Plain, grey zero?”

Judging by her tone, she’s clearly annoyed or mad right now, but when you look in her eyes; it says another, it’s a mixture of worry, relief, happiness, and anything in between.

Camila wet her lips and sputtered a moment. Lauren rolled her eyes and gently took the cane from Camila’s hand, taking her arm in the other and rolling up her sleeve.

 

**00y 00m 00w 00d 00h 00m 00s**

 

“Where were you deployed?” Lauren demanded.

“What?” Camila asked, bewildered.

“Answer the question; where were you deployed?”

“Afghanistan,” Camila managed. “How did you - “

“You were shot. You died, went into cardiac arrest and have to be revived three times.” Lauren said to Camila as her face contorts into pain as she remembers what she felt that night.

“How did you know that?” Camila asked.

Lauren released Camila’s arm tiredly and undid the cuff on her right arm, holding it out for Camila to see. The doctor ran a finger over it gingerly, then encircled Lauren’s wrist with her hand.

“Did you know,” Lauren murmured, “If your soulmate -” she said the word like it annoyed her, but her gaze was still soft  ”- dies, you can feel it? It shows up red on your wrist and it physically pains you.”

Camila swallowed and smiled tightly. “To be quite fair, I think the bullet hurts worse” she quipped.

“What’s your name?” Lauren asked softly, her voice now held the same expression as her eyes.

“Camila Cabello.”

“Lauren Jauregui.” 

The two stared at each other in a haze, eyes scanning over each other’s faces like they were committing them to memory.

“You’re looking for a roommate?” Camila inquired eventually, softly.

“Not anymore. I think I found something more.”

Lauren smiled and Camila smiled back, sliding her hand from Lauren’s wrist to link their fingers together. 

“Brilliant.”

**Author's Note:**

> this work was inspired by something I have read from tumblr :)


End file.
